Anger Management
by Little Miss Insufferable
Summary: Written for a prompt on tumblr. Clara is angry with The Doctor for almost getting Angie and Artie killed. Desperate to avoid being slapped, The Doctor tries to find a way to placate his infuriated companion.


"You could have gotten them killed!" Clara's voice resonated loudly inside the TARDIS console room the very second the wooden door felt shut behind Artie and Angie.

The Doctor shied away from his enraged companion, shifting slightly behind the console as if to shield himself from her wrath. "Yes, well… In my defence I did tell them not to wander off." His voice took on the tone of someone trying to placate a wild animal as The Doctor took yet another step backwards.

"They're _children._ Of course they were going to wander off!" Evidently his attempt to placate the woman had failed spectacularly as Clara's voice only grew louder and more irritated.

"Fair point," The Doctor conceded with a point of his finger in her direction as he tried to surreptitiously put himself further behind the console. "But I think you're forgetting that I did, eventually, save them both from the hoard flesh-eating aliens." He finished, with what he hoped was his best 'please don't hit me, I bruise like a peach' face.

"That's not the point, Doctor! What was I supposed to say if you had gotten them both killed? Oh sorry Mr. Maitland, I just took your children into space in a flying blue box with a bow tie-wearing alien who's actually not my boyfriend and accidentally happened to get them eaten alive by aliens whilst he decided that small blue objects were more important than their lives?!" She was advancing on him now, her hands on her hips in that accusatory fashion she adopted when she was definitely preparing to smack him for doing something stupid.

"Okay- you're angry. How can I make you less angry? I don't like it when you're angry… you get all… slappy." The Doctor paused to make a slapping gesture with his right hand as he continued to edge away from his companion. "And after last time I'd rather you didn't hit me…. It's really quite embarrassing when you're forced to travel around the universe with a bruised cheek and tell people that you didn't in fact get into a fight with a Dalek, but rather your very small female companion slapped you around the face. I think-," The rest of his rambling was cut off by a pair of soft lips colliding purposefully with his.

The Doctor squirmed on the spot, his arms flailing about at his sides as his hands tried to work out whether to push or pull at the girl currently holding him in a surprisingly fierce kiss. Several seconds of useless flapping passed before his hands finally settled on her shoulders and gently pried her lips off of his.

"What was that for?!" The Doctor's expression turned puzzled and his tone slightly alarmed as his eyebrows darted upwards. The skin of his cheeks, Clara noticed slightly amusedly, had also turned a delightfully embarrassed shade of red.

"To shut you up." Clara responded, her hands straying back to her hips. "It was either that or slap you, and since you specifically requested not to be hit again, I thought perhaps I'd try something different." She added by way of explanation as her lips briefly turned up in a small smirk. "And I must say, it worked rather well. Remind me to kiss you more often." Her voice temporarily took on the playfully flirtatious tone she often used with him as her eyebrows raised ever so slightly in suggestion.

The Time Lord seemed at a temporary loss for words as he shuffled and flailed about on the spot for several moments, before finally opening his mouth to respond. "What- I-," The Doctor huffed and closed his mouth briefly as he tried to gather his thoughts. "You're supposed to be angry." He reminded her, not entirely sure which side of Clara was preferable to the other. Flirtatious would probably be the answer if it wasn't for the fact that his face inadvertently turned a scarlet shade of red the very second she mentioned anything even remotely suggestive.

"I _am_ angry." Clara stated pointedly. "This is me trying to resist the urge to hit you round the head with something large and heavy." The Doctor certainly didn't like the sound of the bruise he'd end up with from that.

"Through _kissing_?" He asked dubiously, his head still tilted back warily in case she decided that a slap was still in order.

"No, Doctor…" She started, taking a deliberate step closer – to which The Doctor leant further back until he came close to overbalancing and falling backwards. "Through fucking you senseless." The last part of her sentence was whispered mere inches from his lips as Clara pushed up onto her toes to negate his attempts to distance his face from hers. The response was instantaneous.

"Clara Oswald!" The Doctor chastised in disbelief as he leapt about a foot in the air. The rosy red colour to his cheeks quickly turned darker still and seemed to spread to consume his entire face.

"Don't tell me your sensibilities are so delicate that even the mere mention of sex offends you." Clara responded, stifling a laugh at The Doctor's embarrassed and slightly alarmed expression. Then a thought came to mind that had her head tilting to one side in question. "Is it because you've never actually had sex?" She asked with genuine curiosity. The answer had to be negative, or so she thought. How on earth he could have survived 1200 years without getting laid at least once was beyond her. He might have been a Time Lord, but he was still a man after all. Then again… this was The Doctor they were talking about.

"Of course I have!" The Doctor blurted out indignantly before he could give any real thought to his response. Instantly the blush on his cheeks deepened impossibly further.

Clara paused for a moment. "… You're not gay, are you?"

"I- what?! No!" Still red as a tomato, but indignant to match, The Doctor stepped closer with one finger pointing accusingly at his shorter companion.

"Sorry Doctor, but I think I'm going to need proof." She threw back with a broad, suggestive smirk. The Time Lord stared, his brow furrowing and unfurrowing as his fingers temporarily curled into fists by his sides. His internal war with his own mind played out clearly across his face before one side finally seemed to win out over the other. Clara had no time to mull over what the argument had consisted of before the man's lips were pressed suddenly and unexpectedly against hers. She took a moment to respond – briefly caught off guard by The Doctor's sudden forwardness – before pressing her lips back against his with equal force.

All of her emotions seemed to pour into the kiss as Clara's hands came up to fist in the front of The Doctor's shirt. The Time Lord still squirmed ever so slightly out of habit, but his mouth was very much an eager participant in the embrace. To her surprise his tongue came out to run over the seam of her lips – asking rather than forcing entry. Her mouth opened without question and his tongue met with hers mere seconds later. Clara responded with a soft whimper – the sound of which seemed to startle The Doctor out of his reverie.

"Tell me to stop." He protested feebly against her lips, even as his hand gripped the material of her dress tightly to hold her close.

"Why? Do you want to stop?" Clara whispered breathlessly in reply and brushed the tips of her fingers over his cheek.

The Doctor didn't respond, but she could have sworn she'd caught a slight shake of his head before his body was crushing hers against the hard console of the TARDIS. Never one to waste an opportunity, Clara took advantage of his sudden eagerness and pushed her weight up onto the metal console. Part of her expected to be chastised for using the Time Lord's beloved ship as a make-shift seat. Fortunately for her, The Doctor was far too occupied with other things to care whether her backside might happen to collide with a lever and send them hurtling 20,000 years into the future.

Clara's legs parted and settled either side of his bony hips as The Doctor dragged his hands up to fist tightly in the soft strands of her hair. From her new position she could feel the prominent bulge in the front of the Time Lord's trousers pressed against the damp material of her underwear. The hem of her dress had ridden up to the very tops of her thighs and the cold air of the console room was bitter against the heat of her flesh.

"Doctor…" She breathed his name softly, her head lulling back on her shoulders as the man in question's lips trailed down to ghost over the skin of her neck. The sensation was pleasant, but the gentleness of his touch was far from what she needed to vent her anger and frustration at his earlier stupidity. Her hand reached for his and pried it out of her hair. Their fingers briefly intertwined as she led his down and under her dress, guiding him blindly to press the digits against her ever-dampening underwear.

The Doctor froze. For not the first time in the last ten minutes, the reality of what he was doing seemed to sneak up on him unannounced. This wasn't what he kept his companions for. He travelled alongside humans to hold off the loneliness and pain that came with being the very last of his own kind. Suddenly it all came flooding back in a wave of emotion and The Doctor pulled back from the girl in front of him, panting and breathless as his head fell forwards to rest against hers. "I can't-," he tried uselessly to explain the thoughts swirling through his head, but Clara's finger came up to rest over his lips before he could say another word.

"Doctor… For once in your life, stop thinking so much." She chastised him lightly and, as if knowing a simple order wouldn't be enough to snap him out his own head, brought her free hand down to rub against the bulge in the front of his trousers. She noticed, with a hidden, triumphant smirk, that the movement seemed to work quite effectively.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched The Doctor like that – a long time since he'd _allowed_ anyone to touch him like that – and his response was far more enthusiastic than even he could have anticipated.

Clara barely had time to process what was happening before she felt a hand sliding its way back up beneath her dress and a pair of hard, bruising lips pressing fiercely against hers. This was far more like it. She wasted no time in responding, her own hand furthering its exploration of The Doctor's more intimate areas with the hasty unfastening of his trousers.

The Time Lord made no move to stop his companion's advances as his own fingers pressed against the hardened bundle of nerves currently shielded by Clara's sodden underwear, relishing in the groan he earned himself from her lips.

All too quickly the encounter descended into a mess of hands and tongues and teeth. Clara's frustration was put to good use in clawing at The Doctor's still clothed back as his fingers descended beneath the waistband of her underwear to roam over her hot, wet skin directly. She hardly recognised the sounds escaping her lips as her own and The Doctor's strangled groan of surprise as her fingers finally touched against the bare skin of his erection was enough to earn him another wanton moan from her. Amidst the heat and the passion, Clara made a mental note to make him groan like that more often.

"Take them off." She encouraged breathlessly as The Doctor's index finger rubbed almost painfully slowly over her clit. Barely a second past before he was following her instruction and tugging the waistband of her underwear down swiftly. Clara lifted her hips off of the console and the unwanted garment was discarded carelessly on the floor.

The Doctor wasted no time in returning his fingers to Clara's skin. His thumb took the place of his index finger on her clit as his own hips rocked ever so slightly against the hand wrapped tightly around his erection. With his fingers now free, one roamed downwards to run along her soaked entrance before slowly sliding its way inside.

"Doctor-," Clara all but shouted as her hips bucked upwards to meet his hand. The thrust of his finger quickly took on a rhythm to match the rub of his thumb over her clit, leaving Clara's body practically shivering with desire. The very thought of The Doctor, _her Doctor,_ touching her so intimately was almost enough to send her hurtling into oblivion, but she couldn't help but think that they were deviating ever so slightly off course. His fingers were doing wonders to her body and whilst he seemed to be enjoying the steady pumping of her hand around his erection, Clara acknowledged that there was a far better use for the throbbing flesh beneath her fingers.

She made swift work of his trousers and had them pushed down past his hips in a matter of seconds. It was a struggle to keep her fingers from shaking as waves of pleasure racked through her body in response to The Doctor's touch, but she managed soon after to free his erection from the confines of his boxers. She made a mental note to tease him over the bow tie patterned material later on.

His lips had found their way back to Clara's as The Doctor's hand was guided away from her body and came to settle on her hip instead. He didn't need any clues as to what she wanted – they were there in the way she clung to him like a life line, or the way her lips pressed hungrily against his, or, rather obviously, in the way her hips shuffled forward to press her hot, wet entrance invitingly against the tip of his erection.

Had his head been clearer, The Doctor might have paused to ask whether Clara was positive that this was what she wanted. As it was, he was long since too far gone for coherent speech. He barely managed a muffled moan against her lips as his hips pressed forward to sheath himself inside her almost painfully slowly. Clara groaned and gripped his shirt in her hand, her lips pressing messily against his and her back arching at the sensation of being filled.

There was a brief moment of stillness, in which the only sound that broke the silence of the console room was the mixture of their heavy breaths, before The Doctor began to move his hips steadily against his companion's. His thrusts were long and slow at first – a far cry from the hard, frustration-driven sex Clara had been crying out for – but she'd be damned if she could find her voice to beg him for more when his cock was moving inside her just _so._ If she hadn't known better, she'd say he was taking joy in deliberately driving her insane with his almost lazy movements.

"Christ- Doctor- harder-," was all she could get out as her eyes shut tightly against the onslaught of pleasure and her hips began to move to meet his. The Doctor almost seemed to mull over her demand for a moment or two before the thrust of his hips finally changed. His breath came out in ragged pants against the plump skin of her lips as his fingers dug into her hips through the material of her dress to support himself. The Time Lord could certainly follow instructions when he wanted to as his thrusts turned rough and hard.

Gripping his shirt tighter, Clara met his hips desperately with her own. Her free hand curled around the edge of the console, her knuckles turning white with the strength of her hold as she revelled in the sensation of The Doctor pounding into her over and over again. She was close – painfully so – and dragged him into a messy, heated kiss to muffle her repetitive moans of his name. He could feel her tightening around him and, in an effort to drive her over the edge, slipped a hand down between their still clothed bodies to press down harshly over her clit.

"Doctor!" She threw her head back with a cry of his name as her body responded instantly to the touch of his hand and the harsh pounding of his cock inside her. Every muscle seemed to convulse and spasm and her hips bucked uncontrollably against his in her body's effort to ride out her orgasm.

"Clara-," Her name escaped his lips in a breathless moan; his own body hurtling over the edge at the sensation of her convulsing around him. His hips moved jaggedly against hers and Clara groaned at the feel of the hot liquid spurting from his tip.

Several moments past before either of them fell still and it was even longer before either one of them had caught their breath enough to speak. The Doctor recovered first, but before he could get any words out, his companion's hand collided sharply with his cheek.

"_Ow!" _He yelped as his hand came up to clutch at the red skin of his face. "What was that for?!" He blurted out, his expression clearly showing his confusion.

"That was for almost getting Angie and Artie killed." Clara pointed out sternly. "And this…" She started, pausing to lean up and press her lips briefly against his. "Is for making up for it." She finished with a smirk.

The Doctor was at a loss for words, any embarrassment he might have felt over what had just unfolded gone as he stared dumbly at his companion. The impossible girl in more ways than one.

Clara hopped down from her position atop the console whilst The Doctor opened and closed his mouth uselessly. Her hands smoothed down the material of her dress before her legs moved to carry her towards the door to the TARDIS. Briefly, she paused to glance over her shoulder at him. "Goodnight, Doctor." She called back with a smile before disappearing out through the wooden door, leaving a rather dumbstruck Time Lord in her wake.

The Doctor recovered a few moments later to realise his trousers still sat around his knees and a faint tinge of red crept up onto his cheeks as he reached down to pull them back up again. It was only then that he noticed the presence of Clara's underwear on the floor of the console room. Glancing over his shoulder at the door, he hesitated briefly before picking them up in his hand and sliding them into the pocket of his trousers.

The TARDIS made a small hum of amusement as The Doctor stalked off down the corridor and out of the console room.


End file.
